


A Burglar Is Injured

by playingcreator



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU, F/M, Female!Bilbo, Gen, Serious Injuries, Worried Dwarves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-21 05:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/896411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playingcreator/pseuds/playingcreator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the fight with the trolls, Billa is seriously injured. This turn of events causes much distress amongst the dwarves. Thorin becomes increasingly agitated, or maybe he's just worried.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

As the troll threw her bodily into Kili, all Billa Baggins could feel was pain. Many different kinds of pain, certainly. But really, just pain. 

A sharp stab in her neck that cracked when the bumbling troll let her loose. As she collided with a very solid dwarf she felt as though her chest caved and all the air escaped in a tremendous rush. An outstretched arm to cushion her fall hit the ground at a funny angle and a tingling jolt shot all the way to her shoulder. Worst of all, though, was the searing and tearing of what was unmistakably Kili’s sword slicing through her calf. 

Her scream was lost amongst the battle cry of attacking dwarves. The one she was atop of rolled her off quickly and joined the fray without a backwards glance. Panicking in the face of such unknown mayhem, Billa clutched her left wrist to her chest and tried to crawl out of harm’s way on her remaining limbs. She could feel hot, thick blood slowly oozing its way out of the open wound on her leg. 

Frantically looking around, she saw the troll knife she had so nearly picked before lying discarded, away from the skirmish. Using a tree to help her stand on shaky legs, she tried to ignore her protesting wound. Carefully sneaking around the edge of the fight so as not to be seen or caught, she quickly snatched up the weapon and made for her original goal – the ponies. 

The knife was massive, it’s blade at least as long as her torso and curved into a wicked tip. The grip was hard and smooth, a dirty and yellowed white that Billa suspected was probably bone. She shuddered. 

She had to drag the knife along the ground with both hands, limping slightly as she went. When she reached the pen the ponies were being kept in, Billa heaved the giant weapon with all her strength, working against the sudden stabbing sensation in her wrist. It swung into the air, picking up momentum and cut deep into the rope securing the gate. There was a satisfying thunk as it stuck fast in the wooden post beneath. Grabbing the loose gate, Billa lent back and used her weight to swing it open and take some pressure off of her leg. The blood was flowing more freely from the gash now, and she was beginning to feel a little light-headed, which was not good at all.

With nothing obscuring them, the ponies bolted into the forest, away from the cries and grunts and roars of the fight. Watching them disappear into the darkness, Billa’s back was turned to the cacophony behind her. She did not see the monstrous troll hand until it wrapped around her tiny body.

“Lay down your arms, or we’ll rip ‘is off.”

Two of the trolls were clasping each of Billa’s appendages, suspending her a terrifying height above the ground. The dwarves were gathered below her, Kili and Ori looking particularly frustrated at their helplessness. 

Thorin radiated furiousness. Billa could not help thinking some of that was directed at her for getting into this situation. If she was not preoccupied fearing for her life now, she would have feared for it at the prospect of facing Thorin after this mess. Her eyes, stretched wide with fright, caught his. She did not know what he would do, but sincerely hoped whatever it was let her live with all her limbs. He seemed to hesitate, taking in all his options, never looking away from her. 

Aggravated by this defeat, and seeing no way around it, Thorin stabbed his sword into the ground before him. The others followed suit, dropping their weapons. He needed his burglar too much for her to simply be ripped apart this early in their journey. There was also a small part of him that knew he would never be able to purposely risk her life unnecessarily. Sometimes morals were a burden. 

Their situation began to seem rather dire when the trolls started stuffing half the dwarves and the hobbit into sacks, tying the others to a spit over a great open flame.

When the three trolls took up an argument over the best way to cook dwarves, everyone became a little desperate and fretful. Tired of the bickering, one of the trolls mentioned the rapid approach of dawn, and Billa got a wonderful spark of an idea. 

Wobbling unsteadily in her sack as she tried to stand up and hop towards her captors, Billa half thought through a rushed plan that mostly consisted of the word stall before they spotted her. Then, much to the dwarves shock and horror, she started to tell the trolls they were going about cooking their prey entirely the wrong way, and proceeded to offer alternatives. Behind her there was a huge uproar of anger and betrayal from her likewise sacked companions. Closing her eyes briefly in exasperation, she wished they had the brains to shut up and play along. She really was feeling quite faint. 

One of the trolls picked up poor Bombur from the pile of dwarves in an attempt to prove his point that a dwarf could be eaten raw, boots and all. Billa, desperately distressed, tried to think quickly through the enormous noise the dwarves were making in protest as Bombur got closer and closer to the troll’s foul mouth. 

“Not that one!,” she cried. “He’s got… worms. In his tubes! They all do!”

“What?” a furious dwarf wailed behind her. She did not know which one it was, but he sounded mightily offended. Nevertheless, the troll dropped Bombur in disgust. In the sack, she could feel her entire lower leg coated in a thick, warm layer of blood. It had started to pool at the bottom and she was growing increasing worried, she needed this over quickly. The dwarves all started up again, trying to vehemently argue Billa’s accusation. She was having none of that.

“They’re riddled with parasites. I wouldn’t risk it if I were you.”

As the dwarves continued to call her traitor, it took everything she had not to roll her eyes at their thick-headedness. The trolls regarded her suspiciously, and she tried to show as convincing a face as possible, like when she made her younger cousin Primula believe if you ate cheese after sunset on a Thursday goblins would sneak into your house at night and take you away. She hated it when Primula ate all her cheese. 

“Yes!” cried one of the dwarfs, finally. “I’ve got parasites! Huge ones!” She thought it might have been Kili, which was rather odd. He was definitely not who she thought would have picked up on her play first. Regardless, and to her great delight, the rest of the dwarves started to go along with the act as well. All were yelling in obvious exaggeration about their abundance of infestations. 

The sky above was turning the pale yellow of dawn, and Billa thought they might just get through this. 

Suddenly she spotted a tall, lithe figure moving quickly through the trees. Following it with her eyes, it appeared atop a boulder on the edge of the trolls’ camp; Gandalf’s silhouette before a sun still too low in the sky. No one else seemed to have noticed him yet.

“Dawn will take you all!”

His voice rang out with an other-worldly quality that sent shivers up and down Billa’s spine, much the same as it had back at her dining table, when they had all dared to question his judgment. Gandalf lifted his staff and brought it back down upon the boulder with such force, it cracked the stone right down the middle. Half of the structure fell away to reveal a blinding sun that had risen over the horizon. 

The trolls screamed in fear and tried to scramble for cover. As the rays of the sun’s light touched their skin, their movements slowed and their bodies hardened as they swiftly turned to stone. 

Uproarious cheers filled Billa’s ears as the dwarves let out their relief and pleasure. There were shouts of gratitude to both her and Gandalf, jests towards the three harmless statues, and already retellings of the evening. Everyone was glad to escape their confines, and Kili and Fili wrapped Billa up in a hug that lifted her from the ground in thanks for her quick thinking. 

Thorin stood to the side of their gathering with Gandalf, he did not look pleased at all. Billa could not blame him. After Kili picked her up and swung her around again, her dizziness intensified tenfold, and she stumbled when her feet touched the ground.

“Miss Billa, are you alright?,” asked Kili with a hint of uneasiness. 

“I’m fine, perfectly fine. Just a little light headed is all. Nothing to worry about,” she tried to assure him with a soft pat on his forearm. She would speak to Gandalf or Oin promptly, there was no need to cause distress amongst the company so soon after this little victory. But when the world did not settle back into place, she thought she should maybe reconsider. 

“You’re bleeding!,” the shocked dwarf exclaimed after quickly looking over the hobbit despite her reassurances. Billa was having trouble paying attention to Kili’s fluster, offering a vague smile and pat on the arm, already looking for the wizard. 

As she turned back to Gandalf to rest outside of the commotion for a while, and most probably have a little sit down, the last thing she saw was Thorin’s eyes go wide as he sprang forward toward her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billa's wound is treated, which turns out exactly the way you would expect without anaesthetic.

The first thing Billa noticed was that she was very warm. A comfortable sort of warm; the kind you feel when you know you are safe. Warm turned into solid, but there was also a softness. Fur, she realized. Under the fur was deep, muffled rumbling. Her body felt incredibly heavy, especially her head and she did not want to open her eyes. There was also an unknown weight, sitting comfortably across her midsection. Perhaps it was holding her down. She was not going anywhere. 

Her head slowly began to clear, and the fur started to smell. A pleasant mixture of forest and earth, smoke, worn leather and hard work. The rumbling became language, unknown. Then emotion, furious. Sounds broke through the haze and they were loud; syllables so sharp they could pierce armour. 

“… her in alone? Unarmed? Inexperienced? The only burglar we have? She is the only one who can go undetected by Smaug. You risked her life unnecessarily for a couple of ponies when there were eleven other dwarves who could have assisted you? DAMN THE PONIES.”

Were they talking about her? Probably. There was a sharp sting from somewhere indiscernible down below. She sucked breath in. Or maybe she pushed it out. Billa thought she may have made a noise. The rumbling stopped. There was a pause.

“Are you awake, girl? Open your eyes.”

It was the same deep voice, but softer than before. Kinder. She felt the fur rub against her cheek as she slowly shook her head. The sting again, this time definitely coming from her leg. She tried to pull it away, curl into herself, but she lacked the strength. The weight around her middle tightened.

“You must.”

She was too comfortable, too tired. Billa was certain she had never had this much trouble waking in all her life. With a suffering sigh, she concentrated on lifting her eyelids. They felt like lead. Her body fought, trying to remain unconscious, but it was a lost battle to a stubborn Tookish mind. 

Once open, the first thing she saw was the soft brown fur. Long and thick and comfortable despite its obvious wear. When the fur ended, a collection of small metallic plates took over. They looked remarkably like armour. Moving her hand in an effort to touch the engraved plates, she found it restrained. Tilting her head down slightly, her left hand, up her forearm, was covered in tight bandages that made movement in her wrist nearly impossible. Concentrating on the dressing, she felt a dull throbbing come from underneath and remembered her fall had twisted it badly. 

“No need to worry, lass,” another voice, her eyes lifted to see Oin watching her carefully from what appeared to be her legs. “There’s bruising on that wrist, to be sure. Nasty and bright. But it doesn’t feel like any of the bones are out of place, it’s just sprained. Should be good as new soon enough.”

He bent his head down to examine her leg, a small, thin pair of tong-like instruments in his hand. She watched as he lowered it into her still bleeding wound and pulled out a piece of grass. So that was the stinging. Sucking in breath quickly through her teeth, she made another noise and felt another reflexive tightening of the weight around her. 

It suddenly occurred to Billa that her body was all wrong if she was lying down, as she had assumed. She must be propped up against something. Trying to become more aware of her surroundings (which, really, was the first thing she should have done), she noticed the weight around her waist looked like a thick arm clad in a very dark blue material and intricately designed gauntlets. Following the line of the arm, there was more armour, then fur, then a wild mess of dark hair. It would appear she was sitting in someone’s lap. 

The face of Thorin was contorted into a truly terrifying glare that would no doubt send an army of orcs running in fear. Billa sent up a small prayer of thanks that it was not directed at her. Following his line of sight, she did, however, see two very guilty and apologetic brothers staring resolutely at their feet. 

“Right. I think we’re ready for the stitches now,” Oin dashed a little water over the wound to clear away excess blood and started to thread a needle. That certainly startled Billa into awareness. 

“What!,” her voice higher of pitch and squeakier than Billa would had liked. “No, no, no. Surely it will be fine without, it can’t be that bad?”

Examining the wound properly for the first time, for her breeches had been torn off at the knee, and she was dismayed to find that it was, in deed, that bad. At least half the length of her lower leg, cutting deep and wide into the muscle of her calf. It gaped open; a slash of bright red against her pale and dirty leg, continuing to slowly bleed. She started to feel rather dizzy again. 

Fili and Kili exchanged uneasy glances.

“You will be fine, little one,” reassured Thorin, his tone and face made somewhat gentle for her. As Oin finished threading, he placed a large hand tightly to her leg, pinning it in place and holding both edges of the gash together. A bolt of pain coursed through Billa’s body and an awful throbbing persisted beneath the hand. She squirmed a little at the pain, then realized Thorin’s arms might possibly be meant as more of a restraint than a comfort. 

Initially, the sting of the needle against her flesh was not so bad. As it continued to pass through her skin and out the other side, Billa felt just how long the needle and the tread were and how quickly that stinging pain could escalate. A long whimpering sounded in her throat. She scrunched up her eyes as tears pooled and curled her hands into little fists. When the knotted end of the thread tugged against the entry point and the needle began it’s second pass through her skin, it proved too much for poor Billa.

Her leg kicked out of it’s own accord, causing Oin to flinch then immediately still at the sudden dangerous movement. An unaccounted foot landed a hard blow to the medic’s stomach, causing him to do little more than grunt. Billa tried to sit up in Thorin’s grasp but he only held on tighter.

“Hold her legs still!” ordered Oin. Fili and Kili both fell to the ground, each securing a leg and pinning it as gently as they could beneath firm hands. 

Unable to move, the stitching resumed. Again and again she was forced to endure the piercing pain of her flesh giving way to the sharp point of the needle; the sliding, catching feeling of the coarse thread moving through her; the constant tugging and pulling as the two sides of her wound were jerked together with each new stitch. It was the greatest pain Billa had ever experienced, worse even than the injury itself, as every new infliction was fresh and predominant and spanned it’s own eternity. 

Every part of her was tensed against the pain, trying to twist away. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks and her initial scream levelled out into a constant, high pitched, keening. She could not hear anything, could see anything, her hurt was so intense. 

Billa became aware that the hand Thorin was not using to hold her down had come to rest softly against the side her head. It guided her cheek to sink amongst his coat fur. His thumb moved back and forth in a repetitive, soothing motion over her hair, lightly catching the tip of her ear. The rumpling started again as low noises meant to placate were hummed towards her. 

With her eyes tightly scrunched and her nose pressing into his chest, she brought her uninjured hand up to pull at the fur, clutching on to him with all her strength as exhaustion tempered her to whimpers and sobs. Thorin raised his gaze from her to once more glare at his nephews, who looked to be in almost as much pain at her suffering as the little halfling clinging to him. Both meet his eyes then immediately dropped heads to look down at their hands, preventing weakening struggles. 

Quite suddenly, Billa went completely limp. Her hand fell from the fur, her face slackened peacefully, her lips parted slightly, and her writhing stilled. Her body settled more comfortably into Thorin’s lap, and with wide eyes he turned to Oin. 

Fili and Kili quickly released Billa’s legs in shock and concern. Oin had stopped his stitching to give the girl a look over. At his leader’s worried expression he let out a reassurance. 

“Not to worry. The wee lass has simply passed out. A strong little warrior she is to have kept through the pain so long – I’m almost finished,” he said with good humour and surprised pride. His began his craft once more as he swiftly sewed up the rest of the gash. A job made much easier without someone trying to fight him off. 

The brothers smiled in relief and beamed at the sleeping halfling; their confidence in, and admiration of, her puffing out their chests and straightening their backs. Without Billa knowing, she had just won them over completely. 

Thorin sat perfectly still while Oin finished up and cleaned her wound again. He continued absently with his careful ministrations and gentle, low hums.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was actually really interesting to try and describe the stitching of a wound from the patient's pov. Unfortunately, I'm not quite through tormenting our lovely hobbit. 
> 
> Hope you liked it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dwarves plunder the troll cave and Billa finds herself with a rather unwanted gift from Gandalf, just before something bursts from the trees.

The entire company was exhausted. After a full day’s travel; a night of panic and tension; and a scrappy fight with trolls, they were rightfully so. While Billa rested, a few of the younger dwarves joined in on a quick nap while Thorin consulted with those still standing as to what their next move would be. The ponies had bolted, and along with them went all the provisions that had not been unpacked for the night before their debacle. 

With no transport and little food, Gandalf thought to mention again that Rivendell was, as a matter of fact, rather close. Though it was said in a passing, off hand, kind of way that the wizard often used to make suggestions without actually making them, Thorin picked it up. And it picked up his temper. His face hardened and his chest puffed out in indignation. Balin looked weary, Dwalin looked incensed on his King’s behalf. 

They decided to look for the cave the trolls must have been staying in. 

Billa woke once more, groggy and disorientated. She was unsure as to why, and without opening her eyes promptly decided that going back to sleep was the best idea she had ever had. That was until she felt a constant, light prodding on her shoulder. There was soft murmur in the air, deep and insistent. She frowned, but otherwise kept exactly as she was. The prodding turned to gentle shaking. Billa wished she would just be left alone. She was dreadfully cold, despite the perspiration on her forehead, and there was a rhythmic pounding in her temples that increased in pain with her consciousness. 

“Billa. Billa, wake up. Come on. We’re leaving now. Billa.”

A groan escaped with the realisation that this tormentor would not leave her be. She officially decided that, without a doubt, she hated dwarves. Billa cracked her eyes open just enough to glare at the face hovering above her. The sudden light caused a rather tremendous thud in her head. 

“There we go. Time to get up now, Miss Billa,” a pleasantly smiling Fili murmured. At least he had the decency to keep his voice quiet. He wrapped a hand around the arm he had been shaking and pulled gently, helping her to stand. Billa, while not resisting per say, was still not able to actively participate in standing, and let the boy do the work for her. When her torso was off the ground, her head lolling a bit, Fili reached his other arm around her waist and easily lifted her to her feet. 

Still keeping a strong hold of her, Fili let Billa find her balance. It took a bit longer than usual in her disoriented state. Slowly, he loosened his grip on the little Hobbit and gradually let her weight settle on her own legs. 

Everything was fine, until suddenly it was definitely not. Poor Billa let out a hiss through her locked jaw as the pressure on her injured leg sent a jolt all the way up to her hip. Fili stilled, giving her some time to adjust, before continuing. Her fists found purchase in the material of his sleeves, and she held on tightly. By the time he released her completely, the flashing stabs of pain had evened out to a constant, tingling current that circuited the length of her leg. 

“See? You’re standing and everything. That little cut isn’t so bad as Thorin was going on about,” Fili’s smile showed all his teeth under his impressive moustache, even as his hands hovered at Billa’s sides, should she sway too much one way. She was not sure which of them he was trying to convince more. 

“Yes, I’m right as rain,” she said with a roll of her eyes, jaw still slightly clenched. Fili tilted his head a little to the side at the use of the odd phrase, but then choose to interpret it as a positive report of health. Billa silently asked for patience at the dwarf’s inability to grasp sarcasm. Kili then appeared next to his brother, matching smile in place. He too was thrilled with how well Billa was feeling after being filled in by Fili. Billa thought she might need something more powerful than divine aid. 

-

The stench, even from outside the cave, made Billa’s skin crawl with disgust and her stomach clench threateningly. She was glad to have been left outside, even with the indignity and embarrassment of having the towering Dwalin lift and place her atop a large boulder, as though she were an ornament put out of the way upon the mantle. Huffing and glaring had had no effect on any of the dwarves as they paid her anger no mind. Billa thought they were a rather dense lot. When she caught Gandalf’s eye, she saw his shoulders shaking with mirth and sent him a particularly potent scowl. 

Bifur had taken up a spot standing beside her, alternatively casting worried glances at her wound and looking contemplatively (if not a little absently) at nothing. Billa thought he seemed to have taken it upon himself to act as a bit of a guard, and her fondness for the quiet dwarf swelled. She found she much appreciated his silent company while the others rummaged around in goodness knows what. Fili and Kili had also chosen against entering the troll’s cavern and stood not a few feet away with their heads bent together. They had developed a habit today of always being within her sight. 

“Let’s have another look at you, shall we lassie?” called Oin as he made his way toward her. Bifur shuffled slightly closer to her side, and the boys failed to inconspicuously listen in. He reached up for her injured wrist, and Billa lent forward to offer her left arm. With sure movements, he swiftly unwrapped her bandages. Firmly holding her hand in one of his, but with practised gentleness, Oin began to softly pinch her forearm between his thumb and pointing finger. 

“Tell me if it hurts,” he instructed. The pinching continued down her arm towards her hand. As soon as the dwarf’s fingers prodded her wrist, a small squeak escaped Billa as pain stabbed through her hand. 

“It hurts just there,” Billa said. Oin continued his pocking past her wrist, down the palm of her hand. He made a small noise of discontent and began to pinch with a little more force, back up the arm. Prodding her wrist once again shot pains through her hand.

“It hurts there,” Billa called out, more loudly this time, and the medic paused to look up at her and nod, as though she had given the correct answer to a particularly important question. Very carefully, Oin then began to slowly move Billa’s hand; back and forth, side to the side, in little circles, testing the range of motion. He watched her face for any signs of pain and took note of her limitations. Once he was done, he gave the hobbit a satisfied, reassuring little smile and bandaged her up again, seemingly pleased with how the wrist was getting along. 

Moving on, the old dwarf then took hold of her ankle as it hung down the side of the rock, he twisted her leg to examine his stitching, which Billa took occasion to notice was very small and extremely neat and looked just as good as anything she had done on clothes and cushions. The area around the wound, however, was a startling, angry red. Thoughtful humming found its way from Oin’s throat, and Billa worried it sounded a tinge concerned. Turning his attention towards her face, the dwarf’s sharp eyes made up for his lack in hearing. “How are you feeling, Miss Baggins?” 

The look of vague unease threw the hobbit and she started. As she was about to reply that she as well as could be expected, the foraging party burst forth from the mouth of the cave with much bustling and calls for a shovel. Nori and Gloin between them hefted about a small wooden chest, and judging by the grin splitting Bofur’s face Billa would have bet it was filled with something exceedingly valuable. 

Once Gandalf appeared again, he walked purposefully toward Billa with a rather peculiar expression furrowing his eyebrows. With a pointed look from the approaching wizard, the dwarves gathered around her boulder dispersed to give him some privacy. A new sword was secured to a belt around his waist, and in his hands was a small something that looked suspiciously like a dagger in a sheath. When he meet her, Gandalf cast quick glances to and fro, making sure no one else was near by, and Billa knew she would not like what he was about tell her one little bit. 

His mouth opened to say something, but he seemed to think better of it and the corners of his lips settled into a deep frown. “My dearest Billa, are you quite alright? You look pale,” he said instead. 

“I am hurt and it is an unfortunately warm day.”

Really though, of course Billa was not alright. She had been sitting on this blasted rock in the sun for far too long and felt unbearably stuffy encased in her own clothes. The throbbing in her head was dreadfully persistent and the entirety of her injured leg ached. What a question. All she got in reply was little noise that could have been agreement and a purposeful stare from unnervingly bright eyes. Forcing himself to change the subject, Gandalf spared a glance down at the brown leather in his grasp. 

“Here, this is about your size.” 

Billa’s eyes widened in horror as the wizard passed a man-sized dagger to her. The sheath and grip were dreadfully dirty. From end to end, it was almost as long as her arm and would be able to serve her as a sword. Her first instinct was to give it right back or drop it. Nervously she darted her eyes anywhere but at the weapon in her hands. Oin was leaning in close to Thorin, just out of hearing range, and appeared to be discussing something of great importance. When Thorin raised his gaze and looked to her, she whipped her head back around to Gandalf. This just would not do. 

“I can’t take this!”

“The blade is of Elfish make, which means it will glow blue when orcs or goblins are near by,” Gandalf explained. 

Dropping her voice to just above a shaky whisper, Billa looked down at the old man and confessed, with no small amount of fear or trepidation, “I have never used a sword in my life.”

“And I hope you never have to,” he replied softly. His whole demeanour deflated, a terrible and old sadness bore down on him and he appeared almost apologetic. “But if you do, remember this. True courage is about knowing not when to take a life, but when to spare one.” 

Not knowing to respond, Billa simply looked at the little sword. Her little sword. Her brow knotted, but before she could put any thoughts into words Thorin let out enormous bellow.

“Something’s coming!” 

There was a moment of utter stillness. A great cacophony of rustling leaves and snapping twigs permeated the air, moving incredibly fast and alarmingly closer. As one, the dwarves heaved into action, taking up arms and scuttling about to assume defensive positions. Gandalf left her side to the forefront. Fili and Kili appeared before her, Kili reaching up to grab hold of her wrists. He gave a sharp tug and Billa lost her balance, falling forward and into the boy’s waiting arms, where he quickly secured her around the waist and placed her on the ground as carefully as he could in such a hurry. She sucked in a gasp of air when her weight landed on her leg. A great dizziness passed over her, but she managed to push it aside. With her back up against the boulder, both young dwarves planted themselves directly in front of her. Fili drew twin swords, one in each hand, and Kili nocked an arrow with amazing speed. Dwalin and Thorin placed themselves just before the boys, and the others scattered themselves about the small clearing. Billa did not know whether or not she should unsheathe her new acquisition. 

A wild, crazed yelling, growing ever louder, almost had the little halfling curled into a small ball. Her heart beat thrice its normal speed and she felt lightheaded with fear. She had only just barely escaped death by troll mere hours ago. This was all too much. 

Stampeding feet were almost upon them. Foliage quaked and shuddered only feet away, the path heading directly for the company. Branches cracked ominously in terrifyingly quick succession and Billa could not breath. She pulled out her sword, gripping it with both hands so tightly her knuckles turned white, lifting it uncertainly with trembling arms. The unfamiliar heaviness strained against her weak wrist. Fili and Kili tensed and the wall of thick forest at the edge of their clearing bulged menacingly forward then burst open, spewing forth leaves and flowers and twigs. Screeched gibberish assaulted the hobbit’s sensitive ears as a huge sleigh, pulled by a dozen of the biggest rabbits Billa had ever seen, came to a sudden, jolting holt right before Gandalf. 

Upon the wooden sleigh, still clutching to the reigns, was the most madly dishevelled being Billa had ever had the misfortune of encountering. All ripped, ragged brown robes and gnarly grey mane. His curly beard reached to his waist, and a large fur hat sat just above impressively thick eyebrows, a single dark feather sticking out behind the folded brim. What appeared to be crusted, white bird droppings coated a thick streak down one side of his face, matting in his hair. Large eyes, opened wide, frantically darted from side to side like a startled animal, coming to rest on the grey wizard. The man ceased his manic shouting and visibly calmed, offering a small smile. 

“Radagast,” Gandalf let out jovially, if not a little relieved. “Radagast the Brown.”

Billa let out a shared sigh with the rest of the company, regaining her ability to inhale. She relaxed, lowering her blade so it pointed haphazardly at the ground, both hands still holding tight. Even taking deep breaths, Billa still felt faint and nervous. 

So this was one of the great wizards Gandalf mentioned. Eyeing the skittish man, Billa confessed herself to be disappointingly unimpressed. He was talking to Gandalf at great speed in confused half-thoughts, which Billa found herself of no mind to try and decipher. It was wizard business, anyway, and would likely lead to a whole new world of trouble. In front of her, Fili and Kili turned to each other with inappropriately amused smiles, Kili trying to stifle a forthcoming chuckle. Fili was in no way helping him. When Gandalf pulled a stick insect off the newcomer’s tongue (which sent shudders of disgust up and down the hobbit’s spine), Kili slapped a hand to his mouth and started to convulse in his attempt to keep from laughing out loud. 

Gandalf lead the brown wizard closer to the edge of the clearing. This was obviously a conversation that did not involve the company. With Fili patting his brother on the shoulder, a grin pulling at his own lips, Kili managed to get himself somewhat under control. 

“Well, he looks like an interesting fellow,” Kili mused, louder than he had intended, with his voice wavering, as he tried not to laugh again. 

“Kili,” Thorin and Billa simultaneously warned. Though Thorin’s tone was infinitely more effective, and Billa just sounded like a scolding mother. Without losing his grin, the boy dropped his head apologetically and looked from his uncle to the halfling. When he saw her though, he snapped right back up and widened his eyes in surprise, and not a little mischief. 

“What’s this?” Fili chimed lightly, having also turned his attention to Billa.

“You have yourself a sword there, Miss Billa!” exclaimed Kili with more enthusiasm and astonishment than Billa would have liked. Goodness, did these boys try her patience. The roll of her eyes was completely missed. She was absolutely certain she heard a muttered “about time” in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Thorin’s, so she threw a narrowed glare in his direction that also went unnoticed. 

Pressing her lips into a thin line, her cheeks puffing out in indignation and the back of her neck getting quite hot, she awkwardly tried to stuff the offending weapon back into it’s sheath. Her clumsiness at the unrehearsed task only served to give her greater embarrassment. Stuff and bother this whole confounded adventure. Placing the thing on the ground by her feet, Billa was overcome by a sudden exhaustion that reached right down to her furry toes. Watching the animated brothers watch her did nothing to ease the feeling. Leaning back against the boulder, she tried to remove as much weight as possible from her throbbing leg and relieve the tension in her wound up muscles. All of her was unbearably heavy. This weather was much too warm for her liking. 

“Do you know how to use it?” the incessant Kili continued on, taking no heed of the woman’s weariness. “Would you like us to teach you?” The suggestion excited the young dwarf so that he rather thrummed with it, unable to hold still. At that moment, sword training was most probably the last thing she wanted to do. Looking past the determined brothers who seemed eager to start her lessons immediately, Billa saw Thorin abruptly turn towards their conversation. 

“I will not have you encouraging Miss Baggins to idiotically exert herself when she is already severely injured. If our burglar becomes permanently impaired, this journey is worthless,” he snapped gruffly. 

While not the rescue she was hoping for, Thorin’s harsh (and arguably offensive) words sobered Fili and Kili, reminding them of the less than pristine condition their burglar found herself in. Through fault of their own doing. 

Closing her eyes in the blessed quiet that filled the absence of Kili’s chatter, Billa tilted her head back to rest upon the rock. Though now she was keenly aware of the pounding in the front of her head and the sweat prickling along her hairline. She longed for a cool dip in a river. After a few rapid beats of her heart, Fili piped up. 

“Thorin, I don’t think the Hobbit looks too well. She’s lost all her colour.”

There was rustling of cautious action around her, but Billa did not care to open her eyes. Let the dwarves fuss over nothing. She would pay it no mind. All that was needed was a good night’s sleep in a comfortable bed. A sudden hand upon her brow startled her, but the largeness and warmness of the rough palm was oddly soothing, so she kept her eyes closed. Strange that the additional heat should be so comforting, though. 

“Miss Baggins -,” whatever Thorin was going to say in such a peculiar and soft voice, so close to her sharp ear, was cut off by a blood-stopping howl that sliced Billa in half. She had heard such terrifying, menacing calls hidden beneath her bed during a frozen winter many years ago. It was too close. 

“Wolves?” she barely managed to croak out, snapping to attention. Air started to catch in her lungs and she desperately wished for the protection of her mother’s arms. Surely she was a due a reprieve. Frantically looking about her, all the dwarves had frozen in place, statues of striking fear. Billa vaguely thought, in the back of her mind, it was strange for her companions to react thus to the nightmare’s of her childhood. Surely they had no such reason to be cowered by those animals. 

“Wolves?” Bofur finally answered, taking hold of his axe with both hands. “No, that was not a wolf.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two faints and a cliff hanger. Maybe not the way you would want me to end chapters, but they are nice transitions.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the company being pursued, will Billa's wounds be too much of a liability?

With a deafening crack, a giant beast leapt from the boulder where the small Hobbit had been perched not long before, growling and snapping shaking Billa’s very bones. A vicious snarl ripped itself from the pointed teeth of an animal that resembled the most horrific combination of a bear and wolf that could ever be imagined. Fili and Kili threw themselves out of the way, towards Billa, as the monstrosity landed before Thorin. 

There was no hesitation or fear as Thorin sank his heavy sword into the skull of the animal in quick reflex. Before he could draw his weapon out, another of the massive creatures pounced from behind. Billa screamed in warning, lurching forward with some misplaced instinct to protect him, but Fili grabbed her waist and held her tightly to him. Thorin spun around at the Halfling’s forewarning, sword still sheathed in bone. Kili let loose an arrow that stuck fast right between the beast’s eyes with a speed of hand to rival his uncle’s. With a mighty swing, Dwalin crushed the last of it’s life with his hammer, the stomach-turning squelch was unfortunately audible to Billa. 

“Warg scouts,” spat Thorin, his boot placed on the snout of the monster as he wretched his sword free. “Which means an orc pack is not far behind.”

“Orc pack!,” echoed Billa, fear overpowering her embarrassment of squeaking. She dug her fingers unconsciously into the arm Fili still loosely had around her, unstable as she was on her feet. 

A thunderous expression flared Gandalf’s nostrils as he drew himself up to his formidable, full height, taking urgent steps from the side of the brown wizard toward Thorin. “Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?” His eyes darted briefly to Billa, a flash of worry softening the edges of his anger. The dwarf looked to her as well, pale and troublingly feeble beside his nephews, before turning back to Gandalf, indignation and concern marring his play for neutrality. 

“No one.”

“Who did you tell!,” the wizard bellowed. 

“No one, I swear,” Thorin insisted earnestly, his honesty apparent. “What in Durin’s name is going on?”

Gandalf turned his head about him to take in the gathering of dwarves, the corners of his eyes dropping as his temper left with no one to place blame on for the company’s unlucky coincidence. After a short little puff of frustration he said to the group at large, “You are being hunted.”

It was not often that a Hobbit knew much about orcs, other than that they were Bad News. Even less often that a Hobbit ever encountered an orc, let alone a pack of them. On the many great travels and adventures of Belladonna Baggins, nee Took, (bless her soul) the lady had acquired an impressive repertoire of gruesome stories from those who had dealt with them, or knew of someone who had. Thankfully, she never had a run-in of her own. Growing up, Billa was always ecstatic about being thought of as brave enough to hear such tales, sitting at the fireplace, over warm chamomile tea before bedtime, even though she occasionally got the odd nightmare. In the light of warm summer afternoons, young Billa would regularly battle with these horrendous villains, defeating them will no small amount of difficulty and an abundance of skill and stick-swords. 

Thanks to her mother, Billa had a better idea about the natures and dispositions of orcs than most Hobbits. Also thanks to her mother, Billa suspected that her younger self had been spared the true extent of their malevolence. It was unlikely that any amount of stick-swords would be of use in her present predicament. She was having a challenging time catching breath with her heart beating thus and her head pounding and her leg aching. Everything would be much easier to deal with if she could have a quick nap. 

An unexpected weight upon her shoulder forced Billa to focus, and she found it was a warm hand belonging to Bofur. He gave her a tiny, reassuring grin and a squeeze that offered her more courage than the weapon laying discarded at her feet. People were moving about her, and she realised she had missed some sort of decision. Kili picked up her new sword and sheath, and attached it to her side with leather straps as Fili and Bofur continued to keep her upright. She had not noticed she was fairly leaning against them both. Billa was very confused, with a dash of dazed for good measure. 

There was an odd thumping sound coming from the rabbits leashed to Radagast’s sled. Each began pounding a leg against the ground filling the air with a peculiar ringing. Or perhaps it was a vibration. It encouraged a sense of urgency in Billa and she watched as the mad, brown Radagast leaped onto the craft, staff in one hand and feather still in his hat. He let out a delighted laugh as he sped away, disappearing through the trees as instantaneously as he had arrived. The last she heard of him was an elated “Come and get me!” 

“Thorin, our Hobbit!,” Dori cried when he saw Billa and abruptly recalled she was in no shape to be running for her life, propped up against others and obviously favouring a leg. She was an enormous liability. 

Letting out a displeased breath of exasperation that was very nearly a groan, Thorin stepped up to Billa and took her face in his rough hands so that she was looking directly up at him. She felt each of his fingers distinctly in her hair, and his thumbs made one slow streak over her temples. The pressure was absolutely euphoric and she wished he would continue doing that same movement for the rest of eternity. His face was dishearteningly serious though, the dreadfulness of their situation too plainly drawn on his features. 

“Billa, you’re going to have to run.”

Neither broke eye contact, and she felt a lump in her throat she could not swallow down. That sounded like it might have been an apology. She did not think her body would let her move to run. When Thorin lifted his head, he gave a nod each to Bofur and Fili, silently placing her under their protection, then dropped his hands and turned. 

At that, Bofur took a tight grip of Billa’s uninjured wrist and propelled her forward as he broke into a sprint alongside the rest of the company. 

Pain exploded with such a tremendous force it seemed to have no particular origin. Blinding light snapped across her vision and Billa could not even manage to draw in the air necessary to scream. Her chest constricted and her mouth hung open in soundless agony. Faltering feet did nothing to slow her progression as Bofur kept his relentless hold and pulled her through her leg’s protests. The Hobbit’s thick soles could not find purchase on the uneven undergrowth and one misstep clacked her teeth together, very nearly with the tip of her tongue between them. She locked her jaw in a tight clench, against pain and jarring, with a strength that would no doubt add to her aches for the next few days. 

Tripping and stumbling soon took their toll on the pace Bofur tried to set, and as soft decaying foliage turned to long yellow grass they were at the tail end of the group, with only Dwalin behind them as he guarded the rear. Every second step had Billa’s leg collapsing under the strain, but Bofur worked with the rhythm, adding a heaving tug in place of the natural propulsion of her stride. He did not once let her fall. 

Billa tried to block out the agony, but she could not see the endless, uneven hills haphazardly dotted with boulders, nor hear the heavy breathing and interrupted encouragements from Bofur. Desperately, she managed to feel an annoying knocking against her hip and thigh; her sword swinging and hitting in time with her steps. Focusing on the vague discomfort of the regular thumping was infinitely easier to bear.

Unexpectedly, Billa slammed into the solid mass of Bofur’s back as he came to a sudden halt. Bifur caught her when she bounced back from the impact before she hit the ground. With gentle, steady hands on all sides helping her keep balance, she leant back against a giant rock shielding them as the rest of the company remained tensed; poised to leap back into action. The world seemed distant and muffled, her eyes threatening to roll back into her head, so Billa closed them instead. She could feel individual beads of sweat making slow, cool tracks down her spine underneath the many ridiculous layers of her clothes. She was wearing so many layers. It was so hot. Bofur squeezed the wrist he still held on to. 

“Thorin, she cannot run!,” Bofur kept his voice low, but the panic was still there.

Looking over the injured woman, Thorin’s mouth twisted in a display of unknown emotions that settled on vaguely annoyed, with a corner turned down in worry. He lifted his head to Dwalin, who read something in his King’s glance and proceeded to grab the Hobbit around her waist. Billa could barely muster a squeak of surprise as she was forced to open her eyes again. 

With a flick of their leader’s wrist, the company took off from their shelter, away from the guttural cries and howls of orcs in chase. Dwalin swung the tiny lady onto Fili’s back and Billa grabbed hold of his thickly coated shoulders on instinct, clinging as tightly as her fading strength would allow, with her feet locked at the ankles around the prince’s waist. 

“Hold tight, Miss Billa,” he muttered, head half turned.

Fili speed off with the others, still among the fastest even with the extra weight. Billa was jostled side to side as the dwarf moved, the coarse fabric of his coat and the buckles of his belt scratching relentlessly along the length of her stitches. She wanted to wrap her arms around Fili’s neck for a more secure hold, but knew it would only choke him. Her hands clutched thick, soft fur and she pressed closer against his back and squeezed her thighs tighter. 

Stopping again for protection behind another enormous rock, the company remained silent as they tried to catch their breaths. There was an odd huffing noise coming from somewhere above them, accompanied by the muffled shuffling and clinking of movement. Fili pressed further back and Billa could lightly feel the rocky surface through her jacket. Thorin instinctually held out an arm in front of his nephew and the halfling, offering what little protection it could. The huffing grew louder with the sound of claws scratching along stone. Billa lowered her face, snuggling into Fili’s furs with a childish urge to hide, her brow resting against his neck and eyes squeezed tight. Her clenched fists were shaking. Raising an arm, Fili reached back and threaded a reassuring hand through her hair, holding her in place against him. It was the only comfort he could offer, terrified as she obviously was. 

Thorin looked to Kili, an arrow already nocked in his hands, and gave the young dwarf a slow nod. Kili jerked his head in answer. Letting out a steadying breath, he stepped away from the protection of the boulder and swung around, bow raised, and released an arrow that sunk into the prowling warg’s flesh. The high-pitched cry of the animal caused Billa to tense around Fili. Kili swiftly pulled another arrow from his quiver and fired again. The beast fell from its perch and landed heavily upon the ground, it’s orc rider screeching as it leapt from the mount, sword drawn. 

Dwalin bore down on the orc with his hammer, connecting powerful swings. Bifur stepped forward to help, shanking the vile creature in the stomach with his spear. It let out a scream like nails slowly dragging along glass. The answering howl of a battle cry rang out in the distance.

“Move!,” roared Gandalf, no longer in fear of revealing the position of the company. He led the way for the dwarves, wargs advancing from behind with a speed too quick for comfort. They were upon a rough collection of rock when their assailants gained on them. Fili headed toward the meagre protection the small boulders provided while the others fanned out in a loose circle to cover more ground. Hands gripped Billa’s arms and Fili pulled the Hobbit off of his back, placing her on the ground propped up against stone. He firmly planted himself before her, a last line of defence to protect the small woman should the others fail. Falling back, Bifur joined him. Billa willed herself to stand beside them, she had a sword of her own, but with nothing to hold to anymore her limbs remained limply useless; the last of her strength spent. 

Billa watched helplessly as too many orcs and wargs advanced. Her eyelids felt like weights and closed of their own accord. She forced them open and Kili was wildly shooting arrows at anything that got too close. He was going to run out of projectiles very soon. 

Billa blinked. 

Bofur and Gloin decapitated an orc. 

Billa blinked. 

A warg streaked past in the right peripheral of her vision towards Thorin. He cut it down with a lightening flash of his blade. 

Billa blinked.

Gandalf appeared between a group of rocks to her left. She could not remember seeing him amongst the dwarves a moment ago. Had he disappeared? Perhaps he was a true wizard after all. 

“This way, you fools,” he cried to the surrounded company. Each one turned and fled toward the elderly man, who vanished between the rocks once more. Confused, Billa watched as Nori barrelled behind the small outcropping and seemed to simply drop from view, shadowed by Oin and Dori and Balin. It was impossible for all those dwarves to be so well concealed by such little boulders. 

Ori, Gloin and Bomber followed suit. Billa was struggling to her feet with the hurried assistance of Fili, with Bifur fussing urgently on her other side. Bofur tugged on his cousin’s arm, seeing Fili had a handle on the Hobbit, and they too were lost behind the rocks. Kili was making a slow retreat, much to the distress of his bother who was tyring to keep eyes on the youngest dwarf as he distractedly hobbled Billa to their escape. Turning her head, Billa saw Thorin racing towards them, shouting at Kili to withdraw faster. 

Several orcs made their way after the dwarves, Thorin engaging each one, trying to fend them off as Fili moved Billa as fast as he could, hauling her along beside him. Slicing through the last orc close enough to be of immediate concern, Thorin grabbed the injured woman from his nephew, whose attention was still being pulled by Kili. With Billa out of Fili’s grasp, the King shoved his heir behind the boulders, where the Hobbit could now see a wide crack in the grass falling to unknown depths. She squeaked when her blonde dwarf tumbled beyond her sight. 

Kili finally reached them, and Thorin wasted no time in flinging his second nephew down the hole after his brother, orcs on his heels. Two arms wrapped tightly around Billa’s waist, and she flung her own about Thorin’s neck, pulling herself as close as possible to him as he jumped into the ground after the company. The drop was surprisingly short, the couple falling to the floor of a cave. Thorin twisted their bodies taking the brunt of the impact, with Billa landing softly on top of him. 

As Thorin lifted his head, the harsh blowing of a horn sounded from above, and what were unmistakably horse hooves pounded through the grass. Billa felt Thorin stiffen around her, tensing for another attack as she quickly counted heads to make certain everyone was alright and accounted for. 

Without warning, a pile of flesh and metal toppled into the cave. Thorin scooted back, pulling Billa with him, as the orc rolled along the floor. Dwalin surged forward in defence, placing himself between the threat and his leader. When the creature did not stir, he kicked it with the toe of his boot until it turned to reveal an arrow embedded in it’s chest. It was, thankfully, quite dead. Dwalin tugged the arrow free, making a noise rather similar to a tsk as he looked it over. Thorin reached forward, around the tiny Hobbit in his lap, and took the arrow from Dwalin. The fine, engraved silver tip was doubtlessly telling. 

“Elves,” he all but spat, tossing the weapon away from him as though it had physically stung. Billa thought such exaggerated distaste was entirely too dramatic, but refrained from comment. 

“Does that mean we’re safe?,” she asked, her small voice barely managing a whisper. Exhaustion pushed down on her, limbs feeling both heavy and weightless, as though she were under water. She was beyond caring that Thorin still had a tight arm around her waist. The dwarf turned to her. 

“For now, at least.”

His demeanour relaxed as much as she supposed he could allow. There was still tension in the muscles beneath her, but with imminent danger behind them, his features were no longer so stretched. He tilted his head forward, his brow lightly knocking against her own as he rested it there. Billa had not noticed he was so close. Their breathing was still slightly strained, and panted air mingled in the short distance between them. It was oddly soothing to be so close to the large dwarf. 

“Oh. Good,” she said, slowly pulling away. As he continued to look upon her, Billa finally closed her eyes of her own design and moved only so far as to tuck her head against his shoulder and promptly fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was incredibly annoying, and there are still bits dotted about that I'm not entirely happy with. But it has been so long since an update, and I really just wanted to get it over with. I hope it's still enjoyable! 
> 
> Ignore minor editing errors, I'm going unbeta-ed here.

**Author's Note:**

> First multi-chapter fic, so fingers crossed this turns out alright. I hope I at least make it entertaining. Poor Billa's got a world of pain coming.


End file.
